The Hockey God in My Bed

Addie POV:

A feminine laugh, light and cruel, drifted from the window. "Darling, are you sure you gave Addie enough? We wouldn't want her waking up and interrupting our fun."

My brain went white.

A drug? They drugged me?

Then a man's voice, low and smug with satisfaction, answered her, "Relax, baby. This is the good stuff. She won't be able to fight it. She'll just lie there like a good little Sleeping Beauty, waiting for the 'prince' we arranged."

I fought to open my eyes, my vision swimming in and out of focus.

Through the blur, I saw two shapes against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel suite. Two bodies, tangled together on the chaise lounge, silhouetted by the moonlight.

Then came the smell.

The cloying, expensive scent of my stepmother Kendra's perfume, mingled with the sharp, cedar notes of my fiancé Chayce's aftershave.

My heart didn't just sink. It plummeted.

I tried to sit up, but my limbs were unresponsive, weighted down by an invisible force. A strange, unfamiliar heat bloomed deep in my belly, making my head spin.

I recognized the room. This was the suite we'd booked to celebrate our engagement anniversary. I was supposed to be wearing the silver dress I'd picked out for dinner, not lying helpless in bed.

A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, hot and acidic.

The man I was going to marry. The woman I had called "mom" for five years.

I bit down on my lip, hard. Tears I couldn't control streamed from the corners of my eyes, soaking the silk pillowcase.

Kendra's voice dripped with jealousy. "That little bitch. Why does she get you, and that massive trust fund her mother left her? Once we ruin her reputation, the entire Sullivan fortune will be ours."

It all clicked into place. A perfectly orchestrated trap.

Chayce's devotion, Kendra's maternal affection-all of it, a lie.

They drugged me on the night of our anniversary, in our celebration suite, and had sex in front of me while I was paralyzed.

I squeezed my eyes shut. The image of Chayce on one knee, slipping the ring on my finger, flashed in my mind. He'd promised to love me, to protect me. Those vows were now just slaps across my face, each one stinging more than the last.

The wedding dress sketches I'd drawn. The tiered cake flavors I'd practiced baking. Every sweet, hopeful dream I'd had for our future was being crushed under the weight of their bodies.

The heat inside me intensified. My breathing grew shallow and rapid. An aching emptiness spread through me, a physical craving that was terrifying and humiliating. The drug was taking full hold.

I dug my nails into my palms, trying to use pain to fight the chemical tide. I couldn't let them win.

The sounds from the chaise lounge subsided. I heard the rustle of clothing.

"When is that homeless guy you found getting here?" Kendra asked, her voice sharp with impatience. "I don't want to be here too long."

Homeless guy?

My heart hammered against my ribs. They weren't just going to ruin my name. They were going to humiliate me in the most degrading way possible.

"He's waiting downstairs," Chayce said. "I'll send him up as soon as we leave. By tomorrow morning, every gossip blog in New York will have the headline: Sullivan heiress in drug-fueled orgy at The Harmonia, deflowered by a homeless man. Let's see how her stuffy old man protects her then."

Every word was a knife twisting in my gut.

I heard footsteps approach the bed. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel Kendra's venomous gaze on me.

She leaned in close, her voice a poisonous whisper right next to my ear. "Don't blame us, Addie. Blame your dead mother, for leaving you something that should have never been yours."

Her breath was cold against my skin. I felt her icy fingers trail down my cheek, a gesture of mock tenderness, like an artist admiring a masterpiece just before smashing it.

"Make sure you handle all the traces," Kendra murmured.

Chayce kissed her. "Don't worry. It will be perfect. Once we get the money, we're off to Europe."

The suite door clicked open, then shut.

Silence.

I lay there, my body burning in a private hell, but my soul was ignited by a hatred so pure and cold it was almost clarifying.

The only sounds left were my own ragged breaths and the distant, ceaseless hum of the city outside.